When Lisa earns her much-deserved promotion, she wants to go out and celebrate with her boyfriend, Troy. At the restaurant, Lisa learns that Troy just wants to put on a façade and be the ‘man’—disrespecting her and her hard-earned role. But when he gives his number to a waitress, things take a turn, causing Lisa to embarrass Troy and walk out of their relationship.
It was meant to be a night of pure celebration. After six months at my new job, I had finally earned a significant promotion and was eager to share the joy with Troy, my boyfriend.
He suggested the new upscale restaurant in town, famous for its ambiance and gourmet menu.
“Let’s just get dressed and go out, Lisa,” he said. “We don’t do this very often, so let’s make the most of it.”
I had to agree; we rarely did this—we rarely decided to go out and indulge in anything.
“Fine,” I agreed. “A night out is exactly what we need.”
And I believed that we needed it. Mainly because, as much as I wanted to believe that Troy and I were supposed to last forever, I had begun to see some cracks in our relationship. Something just felt different.
I was happy in my job, but Troy wasn’t happy in his.
“I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me,” he said grimly one evening when he came over for salsa night.
Troy sat on the couch and dug his chips into the salsa and guacamole, complaining about work the entire evening.
It was because of his moods regarding work that I didn’t tell him anything good about my job.
“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, handing him a frozen margarita. “You just started there a few months ago.”
“Lisa, please,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand. Let me be.”
But when I had gotten news of this new promotion, there was no way that I was going to keep it to myself. I wanted to celebrate and be celebrated, and I hoped that Troy would want to do just that.
To my surprise, he seemed really excited about it, and he told me that he was proud of me.
“Really, babe,” he said when he came over to my apartment to pick me up. “This is a big deal, and I’m proud of you.”
The evening started beautifully. Troy showed up with a bouquet of flowers, and he sat down and waited while I got ready. Usually, he wasn’t pleased if I was still getting ready when he arrived, but this evening was different.
“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready!”
Troy put his phone away and stood up, leading the way out of my apartment to where his car was waiting for us.
We drove in silence, but for once, the silence wasn’t tense—it was peaceful, and I felt that maybe Troy was changing. That he was becoming someone who wanted to be here and be present with me.
The soft lighting and the stunning view of the city skyline from our table set a romantic backdrop for our evening. We toasted to my success, with Troy raising his glass of champagne high.
“To the most amazing woman I know,” Troy cheered, clinking his glass against mine. “And to many more successes to come.”
“To us and to the future!” I echoed, suddenly caught up in the moment.
We went through the menu and ordered our meals while Troy spoke about the shared dreams that we had—from the Bali holiday that we had been speaking about for a long time, to wanting to move in together soon.
“I just think it’s time,” Troy said. “And now that you have your promotion, it will be much easier for us.”
Everything went along well, until the waitress brought our food over. Troy kept glancing at her, hoping to catch her eye—he winked at her twice.
I didn’t want to make a scene about it—Troy did this whenever he had something to drink. He behaved as though being a flirt was second nature.
But then, as we neared the end of our meal, I noticed a change in Troy. His usual easy smile tightened when the check was brought to our table. He smiled at the waitress as she stepped aside.
“You should let me pay with your card,” he said, a strain of insistence in his voice.
I was surprised. On the one hand, I didn’t mind paying for the dinner because it was my promotion and I was making a lot more money than I had before. But at the same time, I had also hoped that Troy would want to spoil me for the night.
“Why can’t you use your own card?” I asked, surprised by the frown on his face.
Troy’s irritation was barely concealed.
“Clearly because you’re the one who got promoted, and I don’t have enough money for these fancy dinners, Lisa! You know that, and yet you act like you don’t.”
I was confused by his logic.
“I’ll just pay with my card,” I said, putting my handbag on the table. “It’s not a big deal.”
My boyfriend’s face hardened as he took a sip of his whiskey—he had switched from champagne halfway through the meal.
“It’s embarrassing, Lisa,” he said. “It’s like you’re actually trying to humiliate me by not letting me be the man who pays.”
I didn’t know how to react to Troy’s words. It didn’t make sense to me. And I couldn’t understand what the waitress had to do with who was paying for our meal.
I would have retaliated and stood up for myself, but I could feel my energy being drained by Troy.
I felt cornered. And because I wanted to avoid making a scene, I reluctantly handed over my card.
Troy smirked and picked up my card, signaling for the waitress with an exaggerated flourish, presenting my card as if he were performing a grand gesture.
“I’ll be right back with the card machine,” the waitress said.
Feeling uneasy, I excused myself to the restroom. I just needed a moment to be myself. Troy did this all the time. But I thought that the evening was going well and that he was changing.
Of course, I was wrong.
Before thinking it through, I pulled my phone out and logged onto my banking app. With a few swipes and clicks, I had blocked my card.
Let’s see him pay now, I thought to myself.
On my way back, I paused near the bar, my attention caught by Troy’s laughter from across the room.
He was flirting openly with the waitress, scribbling something onto a napkin—presumably his phone number.
He handed it to her with a wink. I was stunned. I was hurt. A rush of indignation surged through me.
I returned to the table as the waitress spoke.
“I’m sorry, but there seems to be a problem,” she said. “Your card was declined.”
Troy’s confident façade crumbled as he stammered, turning away.
“What?” he asked. “Surely that can’t be right.”
Feigning concern, I suggested that Troy call the bank.
He sat back in his chair and pulled out his phone, dialing the bank and putting the call on speaker.
The representative asked for the card number, which Troy read off my card, followed by a request for the account password.
Finally, Troy hesitated. He was at a loss.
“Okay, Sir,” the person said through the phone. “If you can verify the last three transactions, it would help.”
The waitress hopped from one foot to the other.
“I can answer that,” I said. “A lavender-scented candle, some skincare products, and a new book. And Sir, the name on the card is Lisa Simmons.”
The waitress’s expression cleared with understanding, and Troy was left floundering for a response.
I then pulled out another card and paid the bill myself.
“Lucky I have two cards,” I told Troy and the waitress. “But babe, since you enjoyed the service, I think you can get the tip.”
Troy, red-faced, scrambled through his wallet, pulling out only expired coupons and a few small bills.
I stood up, waiting for Troy to say something—anything, but he sat there tight-lipped.
“Hey, I didn’t take his number,” the waitress said, a smirk playing on her lips. “I just threw the napkin away.”
“I’ll find my own way home,” I told Troy as I walked out into the night.
As I walked outside, I didn’t know if I had made a mistake. But at the end of the day, no relationship should make a person second guess themselves or make them feel like celebrating themselves is wrong.
Which is something that Troy did all the time.
I think I’m finally done with him.
What would you do?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one |
When Kyra discovers, by accident, that her boyfriend, Henry, has been cheating on her, she goes completely numb. Until he sends her an invoice for everything that he had ever spent on her. Fueled by her anger, Kyra fights back, exposing Henry for who he is and asking for her monetary rewards in return.
I Got Married at 80 and My Granddaughter Kicked Me Out – Watch How I Turned the Tables!
When my granddaughter kicked me out after I got married at 80, I knew I had to do something about it. With my new husband, Harold, we came up with a bold plan to show her she couldn’t treat me like that. What followed was a confrontation that changed our family forever.
I never thought I’d be sharing this story, but here we are. My name is Margaret, and I turned 80 last spring. I lived in a cozy room in my granddaughter Ashley’s house. It was small, but I had made it my own, with pictures and keepsakes from my past.
“Good morning, Grandma,” Ashley said one bright Saturday, bursting into my room without knocking. She never bothered with that.
“Morning, dear,” I replied, folding my quilt. “What’s the rush?”
“We’re heading to the park with the kids. Need anything?”
“No, I’m fine. Go enjoy yourself.”
She left quickly, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I couldn’t complain too much — after all, I had sold my house to pay for her college. Her parents had died in a car crash when she was just 15.
I took Ashley in and did my best to give her a good life. Now she lived here with her husband, Brian, and their two kids. Their home was big, lively, and often noisy.
A few months ago, life took an unexpected turn at the community center. I met Harold, who was charming and always had a camera around his neck. We started chatting, and before I knew it, I looked forward to seeing him. It felt like a second chance at love.
One afternoon, while Ashley was at work, I decided to share my news. I found her in the kitchen later that evening, flipping through a recipe book.
“Ashley, I have something to tell you,” I said.
She looked up, “What’s up, Grandma?”
“I’ve met someone. His name is Harold, and… well, he proposed.”
Ashley stared at me, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Proposed? You mean marriage?”
“Yes,” I replied, trying to contain my smile. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Her reaction wasn’t what I expected. “Grandma, you’re 80. You’re too old for a wedding dress and all that. And Harold can’t move in here.”
I was shocked. “Why not? We have plenty of space.”
“This is our home. We need our privacy,” she replied firmly.
I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t listen. The next morning, she packed my belongings and set them by the door.
“Ashley, what are you doing?” I asked, feeling tears start to form.
“You need to go, Grandma. Find somewhere else to live. Maybe Harold can take you in.”
I couldn’t believe it. After everything I had done for her — raising her, selling my house — she was kicking me out. I felt so betrayed as I looked at the boxes of my life packed up like unwanted clutter.
With few options left, I called Harold. When I told him what happened, he was furious.
“She did what?” he exclaimed. “Margaret, get your things together. I’m coming to get you right now. You’re coming to stay with me.”
I hesitated. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not a burden,” he reassured me. “You’re my future wife, and we’re in this together.”
With no other choice, I packed up my belongings and Harold helped me load them into his car. As we drove away, I glanced back at Ashley’s house, feeling a deep sense of sadness.
Harold’s place was a new start. He welcomed me warmly, and I began to feel at home again. We spent our time dreaming about our future together, but the pain from Ashley’s betrayal was hard to shake.
One evening, as we were talking, Harold’s eyes hardened with determination. “We’ll teach her a lesson,” he said firmly. “She needs to understand respect.”
I wasn’t sure how we would make it happen, but I had faith in Harold. He always had a knack for turning ideas into reality.
“Alright,” I said, feeling a surge of confidence. “Let’s show her what we’re capable of.”
And so, we started to plan.
***
Harold and I spent many evenings working on our strategy. Since Harold was a well-known photographer, he came up with a plan to reach Ashley through something she loved. She was passionate about photography and never missed the annual local photographer’s gathering.
“Margaret,” Harold said one evening, “I’ve got a ticket for the gathering. I’ll send it to Ashley anonymously. She won’t be able to resist.”
I felt a thrill of excitement. “Let’s do it.”
Before the big event, Harold and I had a small, intimate wedding.
Harold was determined to capture the day, taking beautiful photographs of our special moments. The photos reflected the joy and love we shared, showing the happiness in my eyes and the warmth between us.
The day of the photography event arrived, and, just as we hoped, Ashley showed up. She had no idea that we were behind the anonymous invitation. Harold and I waited backstage, our nerves tingling with anticipation. We were set on making a statement.
When the host called Harold to the stage to present his award-winning photographs, the room filled with excitement. As Harold walked out, there was a buzz of admiration. Then, to everyone’s surprise, the big screen lit up with portraits of me in my wedding dress.
Gasps filled the room as the audience took in the stunning images of me in my wedding dress. The photos captured not just the beauty of the moment but also the deep emotions we felt.
Harold took the stage and began, “I found love at 79, proving that age is just a number. Margaret, my beautiful wife, has a youthful spirit and a heart full of love.”
I watched as Ashley, sitting in the front row, turned red with embarrassment. Harold handed me the microphone, and I took a deep breath, my heart racing.
“Good evening,” I began, my voice steady. “I want to share a story about sacrifice and love. When my granddaughter Ashley’s parents passed away, I sold my house to help pay for her education and took her in, raising her as my own. But recently, she seemed to forget what love and respect truly mean.”
The room was silent, everyone focused on me. I turned to Ashley, who was sitting in the front row. “Ashley,” I said, “I still love you despite the pain you’ve caused. But I needed you to understand the importance of respect.”
Tears welled up in Ashley’s eyes as she looked down, clearly overwhelmed by the weight of her actions.
Harold spoke up once more, “Margaret and I shared our story to remind everyone that love and respect transcend age. Family should always be about support and understanding.”
The audience erupted into applause, showing their admiration for our message. After the event, Ashley walked up to us, tears streaming down her face.
“Grandma, Harold,” she said, her voice trembling, “I am so sorry. I was wrong and disrespectful. Can you ever forgive me?”
Harold and I exchanged a look, then I wrapped Ashley in a warm hug. “Of course, dear. We love you. We just needed you to understand.”
She invited us to a family dinner, promising to support my happiness and never take me for granted again. We accepted, hopeful for a fresh start.
That evening, we joined Ashley and her family. The atmosphere was warm, with sincere efforts to mend our relationship. Laughter and conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long while, I felt truly at peace.
During dinner, Ashley looked at me with sincere eyes. “Grandma, I didn’t realize how much I hurt you. I was selfish and ungrateful.”
“It’s okay, Ashley,” I said, gently placing my hand on hers. “What matters is that we move forward together.”
Brian, Ashley’s husband, who had been quiet throughout, finally spoke up: “We’re happy you’re content, Margaret. And Harold, you seem like a great guy. We’re lucky to have you both in our lives.”
Harold smiled warmly. “Thank you, Brian. We’re glad to be here.”
The children, sensing the shift in the mood, eagerly showed us their latest drawings and school projects. It was heartwarming to see the family reconnect. The room was filled with a genuine sense of togetherness, and I felt a renewed sense of belonging.
As the evening went on, Harold shared more about our adventures and how we met. Ashley listened closely, her eyes occasionally moist with tears. It was clear she felt truly sorry and wanted to make things right.
After dinner, we settled in the living room with cups of tea. Ashley turned to me again, her voice earnest. “Grandma, I want you to move back in with us. We have plenty of room, and I promise things will be different.”
I glanced at Harold, who nodded in agreement. “We appreciate the offer, Ashley, but Harold and I have our own home now. We’ll visit often, though.”
Ashley gave a bittersweet smile, showing she understood. “I get it. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” I told her. “And so are you. That’s what matters.”
As we left that night, the moonlight softly illuminating our path, I thought about the importance of self-love and standing up for oneself. Sometimes, life’s greatest joys come when we least expect them.
Looking around the table, I felt a deep gratitude for the second chance at happiness and for the family that, despite everything, remained close to my heart.
Harold and I drove home in quiet reflection, each of us processing the day’s events. When we arrived, he took my hand gently and said, “We did it, Margaret. We really did.”
I smiled, feeling a mix of accomplishment and relief. “Yes, we did. And this is just the beginning.”
Harold kissed my hand, and together, we walked into our home, ready for whatever came next. Our love and determination had delivered a powerful lesson to Ashley, and it had brought us all closer. This was a new chapter, brimming with hope and endless possibilities.
That sounds like a story with a lot of emotional depth and growth! If you enjoyed the previous tale, this one about a grandson’s change of heart and his quest for forgiveness should be quite compelling. Here’s a glimpse of what might unfold in that story:
**Title:** “Grandson Called Grandma ‘The Worst’ for Not Giving Gifts—Years Later, He Begged for Forgiveness”
**Summary:**
Once, a young grandson harshly labeled his grandmother “the worst” because she couldn’t afford to buy him presents. Her heart was broken, but she understood that his youthful perspective didn’t grasp the full picture. Over the years, as he grew older and faced his own challenges, he came to realize the depth of his mistake. Now, he seeks forgiveness and hopes to mend the rift caused by his earlier selfishness.
**Key Themes:**
– **Understanding and Growth:** The journey from being a self-centered child to a more empathetic adult.
– **Family and Forgiveness:** The importance of reconciling and valuing loved ones.
– **Life Lessons:** Learning the true meaning of generosity and love beyond material gifts.
If this piques your interest, diving into the full story could offer a touching look at personal redemption and the strength of familial bonds.
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